Death and the Beginning
by bluepoppies
Summary: A short, powerless death god. A scruffy, orange-haired boy. One night that would bind their fates for the rest of eternity. But who said this was anything like the original story? Ichigo and Rukia's meeting, with a twist. Edit: No longer a two-shot! Comments and Reviews are welcome!
1. Chapter 1

**OK! I know it's been a while since my last update. *dodges rotten fruit***

 **And I also know I should probably be working on HGandTY instead of uploading one-shots. But I've pretty much run out of juice for that story so it's staying on the backburner for now until I can write a coherent story.**

 **In the meantime, I've been entertaining myself with little drabbles like this one. I tired to lessen the emphasis on length and focus more on the story and characters. So...**

 **Long intro is long! *Disclaimer: Bleach remains out of my miniscule sphere of ownership***

 **Hope you like the story!**

Prologue: Enter the Death

"No! Please, I beg of you!"

His shrill screams lit up the cold night like bright fireworks. It was unfortunate only she could see it. She only responded by continuing her approach and raising her blade.

"Please. Somebody! Anybody! Help me!"

His cries grew in pitch with each step she took towards him. By the time he was within her reach, he had been reduced to a shivering pile of sweat, snot, and tears. It was almost too pathetic to watch.

"I'm begging you.", his lips quivered. "Please, please don't send me to Hell!"

When she said nothing, he bowed his head low and curled himself into a ball, trembling and whimpering incoherently.

He expected to feel a sharp sword on his neck, what he got instead was a small hand on his shoulder and a soothing voice like that of a gentle breeze.

"It is alright. You are not going to Hell. You are bound for a far better place."

He raised his head slowly, tears still running down his face. What met his eyes were two clear pools of indigo that shone brightly in the moonlight. Her hand was cool and held him in a firm grip of reassurance. But it was her eyes that drew him. They never wavered or averted from his own, remaining fixed upon him as she continued speaking.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore. Where you are going, you will find peace again."

Her words seemed almost too good to be true.

"R-Really? It won't hurt or anything?"

Her chuckle was low and sweet, it seemed a cricket among blaring car horns.

"Rest now. And when you wake next, all will be well."

He closed his eyes. She raised her sword once again. A bright, pale light shimmered briefly from the alley. When it finally grew dim, nothing was left of either entity. And so the city's bustling nightlife continued, oblivious and undisturbed.

 **Yes, this is just the prologue. Yes, I will be uploading the second part, too. Yes, I will stop typing like this now.**

 **Feel free to comment and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I realize that I suck at coming up with titles. I know I shouldn't try too hard because I'm still a newbie, but darn it, I wish I could write better! =(**

 **Here's Part Dos to my two-shot. Warning! I put the rated T on this because I personally don't think it's that graphic, but if you're really sensitive to this kind of stuff (violence, swearing, etc.), then you need to get out now.**

 **Other than that, Enjoy! *Disclaimer: I still do not own Bleach *SIGH***

* * *

#1: Death and the Dying

He was fading.

She could hear his heart beating as he lay on his back, motionless. It beat like a tiny pendulum swinging back and forth, but growing fainter by the second.

How strange that such a man as him would die so young, and in his own house at that. But then, people died all the time.

Some went quickly and barely realized it until they were already on their way out of this world. Others went slowly, at an almost painful rate. These she disliked as she always felt akin to a crow awaiting its carrion as she stood and watched.

But this man did not seem the type to go without resistance and because she could only interact with the dead, she had no other choice but to wait.

His heart beat erratically in protest, the wounds on his torso continued to shed blood. The carpet he lay on was slowly painted over in a new shade of scarlet. But he remained unconscious. This was going to take time.

Rather than watching and waiting like a vulture from above, she occupied herself with examining the various items around his house.

It held the typical paraphernalia associated with an average, middle-class home. These did not really catch her eye. She glanced at the amazingly accurate drawings across the wall. An odd, scruffy man seemed to invade almost every picture, often uninvited by the other occupants. Her curiosity growing, she began to peruse the collection of images.

Aside from the scruffy man, two little girls also appeared frequently. Despite one sporting a radiant smile haloed with light brown hair and the other a smirk peeking out of dark ebony, she could tell they were related. The resemblance did not end there as she spotted the scruffy man again, this time receiving a well-thrown punch to the face, from the very man who now lay dying before her.

Another picture, featuring only one face she recognized. He was surrounded by others similar to his own age. She spared a glance back to his present appearance. He was only slightly younger then. They all held the same strange tubes, some waving them in the air and others tucking them safely in their arms. They all looked happy, excited. Even he seemed affected by the cheerful atmosphere. His prominent scowl had receded slightly and, she was not sure but, his furrowed brows seemed to loosen, as well.

She pondered at the juxtaposition between then and now. A face once so full of spirit and life now ashen and nearly devoid of any such thing. How strange and sad his fate was.

A jolt in his heartbeat quickly stole her attention. A spluttering cough and groans of pain. His heart beat faster. He was fighting his fate. Strange, though she truly knew nothing about him, this seemed more like what he would do.

"Damn it…"

He cursed so softly, she nearly missed it.

"Not yet," he rasped. "Not yet. Gotta…"

Another desperate breath.

"Gotta stop'im."

At this, she remembered. The events played out again in her mind.

 _A dark shadow other than her own enters._

 _A small box hidden in a bookcase._

 _A struggle. The bookcase falls._

 _A knife glimmers in the dark._

 _He crumples into a heap. The shadow slithers away into the night._

Another cough wet with blood and a groan brought her back to the present.

"Won't let you…"

His eyes were open. They were looking right at her. At least, they appeared to be.

The moon emerged from the clouds. Two pools of soft brown glowed amber in the light. His face was set with determination in spite of the pain.

"I won't let you…" he repeated, this time with more fervor.

It was like a mantra, a prayer. It seemed almost appropriate in this situation.

"Can you", her throat had gone dry. She hesitated, but continued anyway.

"Can you see me?"

If he had heard her question, he had no time to answer as another wave of coughs and wheezy struggles for oxygen came over him.

The bloody pool had grown to almost overtake the carpet. Still, he struggled to stay awake.

The effort was too strenuous for his heart. It would spike irregularly before diminishing again. He was going to die before answering her question.

"Hey, you." she inched to the carpet's edge.

The blood had stained the whole thing a deep dark red. She looked at his face again. His eyes had closed and his breathing was faint.

His heart had slowed, less a pounding drum and more a dull thud.

"Wait." She spoke to no one in particular.

He was going to pass on before answering her question.

She looked down to her sword and then back to him, a crazy idea had taken root.

She was at his side now, standing on the bloodstained carpet. His heartbeat was reduced to a feeble rustling. He had stopped breathing and again lay completely still.

Her sword was drawn and hung ready at her side. She glanced back at the wall of pictures.

'It's just curiosity.' She justified. 'That's all.'

His heart had stopped. She plunged her sword straight through it.

* * *

 **So? Was it good? Not? Mediocre? Inquiring minds (mainly mine) want to know!**

 **I tried to focus on Rukia's point of view a little more in this part, but I'm not sure if I pulled it off.**

 **If you liked it, should I continue? If so, I'm gonna need a beta. If anyone knows any good ones, please let me know. Please?**

 ***Puppy-dog eyes***

 **Rate, comment, and review to your heart's content. And Happy Halloween!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi all! Thought I was dead didn't you? Here's a new chapter to prove you wrong (^-^)**

 **But seriously, I am sorry for not updating as much as both you and I would have liked. Turns out life in the real world is a lot more tiring than I thought it would be. Now that there's a little breathing room and what with the holidays and all, I decided why not give this story another shot.**

 **Just a head's up, this is kind of the start off point for a new arc in the story that I hope to work all the kinks out of soon. But in the meantime, here's what I've come up with to get the gears grinding again. Hope it works!**

 **Many thanks to all you lovely internet folks for your patience and support. I would also like to personally thank my Beta, mingxingxing, for all of her generous and helpful advice (Check out her page, spread the love, people!).**

 **Enough of the author, I've held you back long enough.**

 **Hope you all enjoy and Happy (Late) Holidays!**

 ***Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Bleach, the Sixth Sense, or the Boomtown Rats***

* * *

#2: I See Dead People (Track I: I Don't Like Mondays)

Streaks of lightning followed closely by a roar of thunder filled the sky outside his window. The wind howled like an army of banshees. His windows shook with the force. Raindrops the size of ping-pong balls pounded against the glass. Dark clouds gave no sign of relief from the deluge currently engulfing the city below.

It was an absolutely perfect setting for a horror film.

And for one poor, unfortunate mortal, it was indeed a nightmare.

"Damn it all, why do I have to stay after hours when I'm the one that writes the bloody checks?!"

His only answer was another sharp clap of thunder.

'And now I'm gonna have to walk home in this shit.'

An aged radio crackled to life, filling his quiet office with static noise. He turned the dial to the news station. A garbled meteorologist soon confirmed his theory.

He collapsed back into his chair. It gave with little more than a squeaky sigh. He echoed the gesture. Today was just not going well for him.

On top of having spilled an unbelievable amount of coffee all over his shirt and pants and running late for work because of it, he also had yet to fill his desolate fridge with food and dig out his apartment from the virtual Mt. Everest of trash piles.

Add to that, his rent due date coming up next week and his landlady out for blood, as well as the stress from daily filing his own personality down to the nib so as not to lose his infamous temper or job in the process. In short, Ichigo Kurosaki needed a break and Mother Nature was being less than obliging.

He sighed again. This really was not his day. A sudden flash of lightning reminded him of the time. When had it gotten so dark?

Lost in a haze of radio chatter and office papers, he took little notice of the light knock at his door. He did, however, look up at the sound of hesitant footsteps just outside.

Confusion at having a visitor at this time of day (or was it night now?) was not new to him. Most of his coworkers made it a habit to purposefully arrive late, claiming it to be fashionable or something. Honestly, he couldn't see how.

Still, common courtesy drove him to answer. He was not surprised when the shadow jumped behind the frosted window. His gruff voice and unruly manner did that often. However, he was a little taken aback upon seeing the entrant.

"Excuse me. Um, I know it's late and I'm sorry for barging in like this, but…"

Her eyes fixed on the floor, she perched on the edge of the doorframe like a small bird.

"Inoue?"

She froze when he said her name. Slowly, her face rose to his and his query was answered.

As a kid, he was kind of a problem child. He couldn't help getting into fights just as much as he couldn't help having naturally orange hair. Because of this, most people saw him as just another violent, uncultured delinquent. One of the few exceptions was her.

She seemed a little worse for wear than he remembered. But the way her eyes lit up on recognizing him left no room for doubt. This was Orihime Inoue.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

Wow, that took him back. Days of eating lunch on the roof, getting chewed out for missing classes, and watching every new day go by with a little more impatience and wonder filled his mind to bursting. Back then, the world seemed endless and filled to the brim with new possibilities. A far cry from what it was now.

Old memories and new questions battled for dominance in his head. He didn't know where to start.

"What are you doing here?"

His question shook her from her daze and she struggled to give a coherent answer. Seems she had the same problem.

"Well, uh, I saw the light was on in your office and… well…"

Curiosity won out in his head. He could run through the youthful montage later.

"Wait. Why are you here? Is something wrong?"

She stiffened visibly, but managed to recover enough to reply.

"Oh, no no no! Nothing's wrong. I'm f-Everyone's fine! We're all fine…"

Her response did not comfort him, but he chose not to push her. She had her reasons and he could respect that. Still…

"…I'm just asking 'cause no one really comes here without either a serious problem or an appointment. Sorry."

Her cheeks blossomed pink, flattered by his concern. She tried desperately to hide it and found her eyes meeting the floor again.

"N-No. Everything's fine. Really. Thank you."

Her voice had dramatically risen in pitch by the time she'd finished her sentence. Damn her stupid fluttering heart.

While she was occupied with her own thoughts, the room fell silent. It was not entirely comfortable, but it gave Ichigo a chance to clear his mind and think. He may as well start with being polite.

"Hey, why don't you take a load off? I'm beat just looking at you."

"O-okay."

Her voice sqeaked more than she liked. But he didn't seem to notice, so she made her way to the chair opposite his desk. She hesitated.

"Um, are you sure? I mean, you must be busy working at this hour. I-I could come back later if I'm bothering you."

He shook his head and casually gestured at the chair.

"'S fine. Make yourself at home. I could use some company anyway."

Still uncertain, she eased herself onto the chair. She kept her back straight and legs primly crossed at the ankles.

They fell into a semi-comfortable silence, but neither was sure how to break it. They had never been very close. Their only connection being a few mutual friends. Finally, he decided to go first.

"So…"

She looked up at him expectantly.

"… How've you been?"

Her reply was shorter than he liked.

"I've been well."

Okay, time for Plan B.

"How's Tatsuki?"

Her eyes lit up with new vigor and she smiled involuntarily. This always happened when she talked about her friend.

"Still trying to beat the bad guys. Just last year, she made it to the World Championship. You should've seen some of her opponents! They were like mountains with arms and legs! This one girl…"

He let himself get swept up in her chatter, a happy distraction from the dry, lifeless papers that sat before him.

It was nice to hear about his old classmates. The only one he still kept in reasonable touch with worked on the other side of town and was an exceptionally callous doctor. Their friendship was so often at odds that it had been nearly half a year since both had spoken in civil tones.

It wasn't until much later that Ichigo spared a glance at his clock. He almost did a double-take.

"Hey, Inoue, it's getting pretty late. Don't you think you should head home? I'm sure you gotta get up early tomorrow."

She paused mid-sentence in her story about her trying to mix mayonnaise with peanut butter and jelly. Her strange sense of taste never ceased to amaze him.

Her face donned a confused expression and then, upon looking at her own watch, a look of alarm.

"Oh, my! It is late."

She looked at the dark sky outside with a baleful expression. He made to stand.

"I could walk you back if you want."

Her eyes lit up with excitement until something else took its place. She did her best to hide it.

"N-No, no need. I'll just take the bus. Thank you, though."

She continued to ramble on with nervous assurances. Yes, she would be alright. Her neighborhood was safe enough. No, she didn't need an umbrella. Yes, she had both the police and emergency services on speed-dial.

Lightning flashed with alarming proximity to the building, cutting off their conversation. It was brief, but for a moment, the room and its inhabitants were bathed in stark, white light.

But quickly as it came, the light retreated and the small desk lamp once again became the office's sole light source. Ichigo thought of saying something more, but could not bring himself to do it.

"All right. But if you ever do get into trouble, don't hesitate to call someone."

He handed her a business card.

"This was nice. We should talk again. Maybe have lunch with Tatsuki or something."

She stared as if in a daze and took his card, barely registering the number typed across it. If her face were any more red, it would be a tomato. She hoped the office was dark enough to conceal it.

Doing her best to recover, she scrambled to give a reply.

"T-Thank you. I-I-I'll d-definitely do that. Uhm, I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble. Please try to get some rest, don't stay out too late."

She had already reached the door before he could answer. He smiled a little. Her heart caught in her throat. He barely managed to get out a "goodbye" before she nearly bolted out of the room.

He settled back down into his chair. The look of fond remembrance and friendship slowly melted from his features, replaced with one of intense concentration.

His papers, long-forsaken, stared blandly back up at him in black and white. But his mind swirled with something far more pressing than letters and numbers. Gray eyes clouded with fear and dark purple over pale skin flashed behind his eyelids. In spite of his doubts, he knew it wasn't his imagination.

His motivation to work thoroughly broken, he decided to head home. He lazily shuffled the papers into something resembling a neat stack and gathered his things. Among them, he was sorry to see no sign of an umbrella and shot the sky another dirty look. He did, however, make sure to carefully pack the old radio into his bag.

But as he was locking his office door, his thoughts soon returned to his earlier visit and something cold and hard settled into his gut. As he entered the street, another streak of lightning signaled his exit, illuminating the text across his office window: _Karakura Emergency Clinic_.

Thunder pounded its way through the sky again, heightening his dread. This was definitely turning into a horror movie.

* * *

 **That was quite a read wasn't it? Before any comments, I would like to point out that I realize that it's a lot more "wordy" than I would like it to be and as I said above, I'm still working out some the kinks in this story. But personally, I'm actually just glad that it's more coherent than some of my other multi-chapter attempts (*whose name shall not be mentioned*)**

 **Anyway, hope you all enjoyed and if so, then I'll try to get back to you real soon.***

 **(*= There's a rumor that the more you review a story, the less time there is between updates)**

 **Questions and comments are always welcome. Thanks for reading!**


End file.
